


Jeremy By Himself (A Boyf Riends [?] Fanfic)

by Ediyo



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: AKA: We Need More JerAngst, Eating Disorder, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Squip Squad is Goals, Where Are The Adults?, jeremy is sad, much angst, such sadness, switching POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 08:29:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14891093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ediyo/pseuds/Ediyo
Summary: After everything that happened with the Squip, Jeremy has been having some self esteem issues. More so than usual. After a confrontation at a party, Jeremy excludes himself from the rest of the Squip Squad. When he doesn't show up at school for days, it's up to Michael and the others to figure out what's bothering him.And they may not like what they find.





	1. Chapter One: Parties Suck (Michael)

**Author's Note:**

> Jeremy unconsciously causes trouble at a party.

 If you haven't ever had to participate in the art of faking a text, then you haven't lived. It's a great skill that a person should have. It really helps you practice your acting skills. And, in the heat of the moment, it's exhilarating. You get a rush of accomplishment when you get away with it. 

Yeah, so...turns out that doesn't work when the object in your hands is a remote. Not a phone. 

Oliver took a swing at Jeremy, who narrowly avoided the shaky and drunk fist. It never occured to me that Oliver could get so upset about someone not wanting to listen to him. It also never occured to me that he would be able to tell the difference between a phone and a remote, even when he's sober. 

The conversations around me come to a halt, leaving only the blaring music in the background. I have no idea why we came to this party. Sure, Jake had invited us and I wasn't one to turn down a request from the Squip Squad, but seriously? A party? I've never been good at parties, especially after last year's Halloween. But Jake had wanted to commemorate the end of Spring Break and the start of the end of Junior Year. 

So, of course, he invited the entire school.

Jeremy had been shaky and reclusive ever since the whole Squip incident (the Squipcident as we'd taken to calling it) and decided that today was going to be the day he broke out of his shell. He'd seemed hesitant when I said I'd come along (whether it was because he remembered the last party of something else, I'm not sure), but I decided to show up as moral support. 

The party had started off innocent enough. You know, like all high school parties. Jake had given Rich and Jenna full control of the radio (still not sure if that was a good idea). I'd seen Christine sneak towards it a view times - probably to play some musicals through an aux cord - but Rich had come prepared, spraying her with water every time she got too close (what are my friends). Brooke and Chloe had brought a whole carload of beer, which I realized that none of us in the Squip Squad had actually touched. I hadn't because I assumed I was going to be Jeremy and I's DD, but I apparently wouldn't need to. I knew Jeremy and Rich weren't drinking it since the Squip would get a bit testy when they drank it, but I don't know why the rest wouldn't, since they hadn't had it long enough to have an experience with alcohol. I'm pretty sure we'd all just made a subconscious pact t o not do anything that reminded us of anything that had to do with the nanotechnology.

But that didn't mean that the rest of the guests had to do anything. Cans littered the ground from where people had gotten so drunk they didn't even bother trying to get it to any of the trashbags Jake had littered around the house. His new house also had a pool, so anyone who was sober got to experience the joys of keeping drunks from slipping in and drowning (I was currently in the lead with six).

Speaking of people who got drunk at parties, Oliver really took the cake. Even if Jake and Chloe had been drinking, he'd still probably beat them (I'd once heard that he got drunk within five minutes of a party). Oliver was a tall kid who was all muscle and sported a surfers tan (in the middle of New Jersey). We were all pretty sure that his bleach blonde hair was fake and that he'd had a lot of work done to get his teeth that white. He was also probably one more cup away from getting the lifelong joy of liver problems. 

He was also a senior. You know, the people in high school who are old enough to not bother with the task of hazing the underclassmen. Not Oliver apparently. Him and his friends would even haze us juniors (except Jake and Chloe. They were popular enough to avoid his terrible teasing wrath. Not even Rich, Brooke, and Jenna were safe from him). Which is what made Jeremy grab the remote in the first place. 

I'd left to help Christine with one of her plans to get past Rich's water fortress (she'd offered to play some Bob Marley if we got to the speaker system) and that had given Oliver enough time to sneak up on Jeremy. After many failed attempts, Christine finally let me loose and I went back to the living room (one of many. Jake had a big house) to see Jeremy scrunched up in an attempt to avoid Oliver's scrutinizing glance. I wasn't close enough to hear everything he was saying, but it was something along the lines of calling him a 'dorky loser'. 

I'd seen Jeremy begin to shake. Ever since the Squip, he'd been subconscious about how others saw him. He'd apologize for the smallest of things, scared that we would hate him if he forgot to bring Christine a copy of an old Shakespeare play or wasn't able to help Rich on one of his math problems. So yeah, the situation was not going well. 

I'd felt my blood boil as I tried to make my way through the sea of drunks in order to help my Player Two. I saw Jeremy lunge forward in and grab a remote off the table (he tended to forget things when he was nervous, like the fact his phone was in his pocket) and pretend to start 'push' random buttons. Oliver's face suddenly turned dark. He yelled at Jeremy, calling him a 'loser who couldn't even tell the difference between a phone and remote (still amazed he could even do that) and didn't have the common decency to listen to others when they were speaking'.

And that's how we got to where we were now. 

Jeremy stumbled back and I quickly grabbed his arm and yanked him away from Oliver. Dustin and a few of Oliver's other friends leapt forward and fought to keep Oliver from coming after him. Jake and Rich ran in from the other room and I saw Christine and Jenna close on their heels. Chloe and Brooke looked up from their spot across the room. 

"Get back here, you little runt," Oliver growled at Jeremy. I felt him freeze so I stepped in front of him in a protective manner. It wouldn't do much if Oliver actually broke free since I'm barely taller than Jeremy and super weak but hey...it was worth a shot. 

Jake took one look at the scene in front of him before screaming, "Everyone out! Party's over!" 

Groans filled the room as everyone began to filter out. I pushed Jeremy back a bit as Oliver's friends dragged him around us. When Jake said everyone, he meant everyone. 

So naturally, everyone in the Squip Squad stayed behind. 

Once the house was cleared (Jenna and Christine checked for stragglers), I steered Jeremy over to the couch and sat him down. He was still shaking a bit, but other than that, he seemed ok. 

"Sorry about that," Jake said. " I really shouldn't have invited him." 

"It's fine. You can't really invite an entire building population but exclude one person," I said. 

"How you feeling, Jer?" Christine asked. Her and Jeremy had only dated for about a month before they realized it wasn't going to work out. Jeremy realized he'd only liked the idea of dating her and Christine realized she was asexual. They were still friends though, and Christine was a sweetheart who always helped her friends. 

"Fine," he said. "Just a little shaken." 

The rest of them nodded, alright with his answer. But I, his friend of twelve years, was able to catch his hesitation and his shaky voice. 

"Well, you guys can go on ahead home," Jake said. 

"Don't you need help with cleaning?" I asked, kicking a can at my feet. 

"Nah," Rich said. "Jake and I will handle it." 

"Ooh, staying behind, I see," Chloe teased. 

"Cram it," Rich growled. 

"Ok," I stood up, practically having to drag Jeremy up with me (he seemed to have spaced out). "Well, see you guys tomorrow." 

"Bye," Rich and Jake called as the rest of us walked out the door. Jeremy and I waved goodbye to the girls as we headed towards the car. We hoped in my PT Cruiser (Jeremy flinching a bit when I slammed the door closed) and took off. I dropped him off at his house before heading home.

\-----~:~-----

They hate you. You're a little wimp that couldn't even stand up to a drunk peer. 

"I know."


	2. Chapter Two: Lunchtime Worries (Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rich brings things to light.

Jeremy didn't show up at school the next day. Or the day after that. I knew he was alive cause he'd texted me. He's told me he was sick (an excuse I didn't entirely believe) and that he should be better soon. When I asked if he wanted me to bring him anything, he responded (almost a little too quickly. If that's even possible through text) that he was fine. 

That didn't mean that the we didn't get to be nervous. 

"Are we sure that he's sick?" Brooke asked at lunch on the second day. "I know it's possible, but after everything that's happened, I don't know. Maybe he's..."

"Maybe he's what?" I cut her off with a growl before giving her an apologetic look. I hadn't meant to snap at her. I just didn't like what she was implying. 

She gives me an empathetic look before saying, "I don't like the idea anymore. But he's been in a downhill spiral since the play." 

"I don't get it," Jenna says. "Rich had his for way longer than Jeremy did, but Rich has been handling it way better than him." 

"My Squip didn't try to take over the world," Rich says, shrugging. "I'm pretty sure Jeremy's was glitched or something. I also listened to mine better. So I didn't get the same treatment as he did." 

"Wow, you listening to an authoritative figure. That's a hoot," Chloe says. 

"Shut up," Rich snaps. "And it wasn't an authoritative figure. It was an creepy supercomputer that could control my movements if it so pleased. I just decided to not let that happen." 

"Wait a second," I say. "What do you mean 'same treatment'?" 

Rich freezes, like he's just been caught red handed. It's then that I realize how little we've actually talked about what it's like to have a Squip. Sure, everyone who took part in the play shared what theirs felt like (mostly stuff about remembering lines or feeling more confident) but Rich and Jeremy, the people who had had it the longest, stayed mostly silent. Everyone else seems to have picked up on this too, since they all turn to Rich with mixed emotions (poor Christine looks like she's about to cry). 

"Well...um...so," Rich stammers. The fact that he's stuttering makes it even worse. Rich never stutters. 

"Just spit it out!" Chloe almost screams, ever the one for subtlety. 

"The Squip would shock us," Rich says, fighting to keep his voice level down (its then I realize nearby tables are staring from Chloe's outburst). "If we did anything wrong, it would shock us. It didn't really start doing this till around the second day. Maybe it had a sort of one day warranty on it so you wouldn't get rid of it till it was too late. Though I don't know how you could even get rid of it unless you had an 'all knowledgeable Michael' on your side. But that's why I tried my hardest to do whatever it told me to do. I realized that if I was 'perfect' in its eyes, it have less reasons to attack me." 

"Then why didn't Jeremy do that too?" Christine asks, eyes wide with worry. "Also, sorry about that. Sounds horrible." 

"It...honestly took me a bit to come to that conclusion," Rich says, looking down. "And with the speed that Jeremy changed, I'm pretty sure he figured it out too rather quickly. Though, if his Squip was broken like I think it is, I don't know how much that would've mattered." 

My mind is filled with images of Jeremy slouching or doing something dorky or stuttering like he normally does, only to be punished for it. I try to believe that it wouldn't hurt that much (if I think about it hurting, then the Jeremy in my head starts crying. I don't like that), but if what Rich said is true - about having to change quickly to make it stop - it seems more than a mild annoyance. I realize there's only one way to find out. 

"Hey, dude, I um...I know this is kind of a personal question...but did it leave any marks?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Like," I hesitate on the word. I really don't want to put him on the spot (and I really don't want it to be true). "Scars?" 

"Oh," Rich pauses. He looks up and scans the room. The rest of us do too. When we're sure no one's looking, Rich shifts in his seat so his back to us. Then, he lifts up his shirt a bit so we can see the base of his back. In a dull red color lies a bunch of jagged lines streaming out from certain spots (sort of like how it looks when a CD cracks). Someone gasps, and to my surprise, it's not Christine. It's Chloe. 

Rich quickly drops his shirt and turns back in his chair. He looks a bit nervous, like he's embarrassed for sharing this information. But he also looks relieved. Like it's something that's been sitting on his chest for a while and he'd glad someone else finally knows. Which I bet he is. 

"It's more condensed at the bottom," he says. "But it hurts more at the top, since it's more recent." 

"They still hurt?" Jenna asks. 

"Only if something pushes against it. Sometimes, even my shirt hurts. But not often." 

"That's why you would go into the stalls to change during gym," Jake says. 

"What, did you think I was growing a third arm or something?" Rich laughs, trying to lighten the mood. 

"I didn't really know," Jake says, still serious. "And I'm really sorry that happened, man. And I feel really selfish for being glad it didn't happen to me." 

"Don't be," Rich says. "Thinking back on it, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy." 

Everyone else keeps talking. Rich wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy. And he tends to be a rather violent (and slightly unempathetic) person every now and then. If he thought that it was that bad, then it must be ten times worse. And if he's correct, then Jeremy will have experienced it even more so. I glare at a random spot on the table as my subconscious is flooded with all my memories of Jeremy ever being in pain. 

There was the time he sprained his ankle from falling off his bike. He once bit off one of his brackets when complaining about how tight his braces were. Another time, he came down with a stomach bug so horrible he compared it to the cramps girls get. And I know for sure that he had absolutely nothing but the internet to tell him what that was like. There was also the all the times people like Oliver would beat the tar out him. 

He'd also experienced a fair amount of emotional pain. Like the time his mom left. He came running to my house, breaking through my window (back when I stilled sleeped upstairs), tackled me, and screamed in my arms. Not sobs. Screams. He didn't actually start crying till ten minutes later. 

None of these compared with what Rich was describing. 

The bell rang and we all left for our last few classes. I texted Jeremy and it took him a while to respond, sending my nerves into a tizzy. It wasn't till I was home, pacing in my basement bedroom when he responded. 

Player Two: Sorry I was asleep. i'm fine don't worry. 

It was then that I decided that if he didn't show up to school the next day, I was going to skip class, march down to his house, and stay with him the whole day. Luckily, he was waiting for me at my locker like normal the next day. 

\-----~:~-----

You're such a burden. He keeps having to text you, just because you can't take care of yourself. 

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know how to italicize on AO3. Whoops.


	3. Chapter Three: I Know (Jeremy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy hears voices in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicidal Thoughts start around here and pop up throughout the rest of the story. Sorry.

I fidget awkwardly while waiting for Michael to leave his class. It had become sort of our tradition after the whole Squipcident. I felt like complete crap for what I'd done (and rightfully so), so I would constantly try to be with him to make up for it. Not in a clingy way (I swear) but just as a sort of reminder that...he wasn't alone. 

I leaned against the wall and my back began to burn. Not because of any sort of scarring (definitely not). I probably just slept on it wrong. 

That wouldn't be the first thing you did wrong. Now stand up straight and stop fidgeting. No need for you to act like more of a freak then you already are. 

I straighten up as soon as Michael walked out the door. 

"Yo, sorry. Teacher had som...you ok dude?" 

"Yeah," I lie. "Why do you ask?" 

"You just seem so alert," he says. "I didn't scare you did I?" 

"Nah, man," I say, waving my hand. "I was just thinking." 

"That's not healthy." 

I laugh and start walking towards the cafeteria. I let Michael drone on about what I missed the past two days (and about some documentaries he saw. Because it's apparently too much to send through text) as we follow the last few students to the lunchroom. I'm consciously aware of how many steps I'm taking and how long they are. Are they two weird? Do they look lanky? Do they look awkward? Freaky? 

Are you honestly going to complain about your steps? You just spent the last two days in bed wallowing in self pity. Stop being a crybaby. You're so annoying.

"I know," I mumble. 

"What was that?" Michael asks. Did I say that out loud?

"I didn't say anything," I say. He gives me a skeptical look as we enter the cafeteria. He opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by a voice ringing out nearby. 

"Hey, look who's alive!" 

We look over to see Christine waving from our usual table. Everyone else greets us with varying levels of enthusiasm. As we sit down, I realize that Chloe and Jake have set up their utensils in a sort of catapult fashion. Rich waits at the end of the table, ready to test out their inventions (if it's a competition, then Chloe will win. She's in physics). Michael gets up to get our lunches, something he's done since we were younger. We used to swap out, but after my mom left, he decided to start doing it everyday. 

He pities you. He thinks you're pathetic and miserable. 

'I know', I think, making sure to not say it aloud this time. 

"So, Jer," Christine asks. "How're you feeling?" 

"Better," I claim. "I guess I picked up something at the party." 

Everyone shares glances. I don't know what they're thinking, but it makes me nervous. 

Yes you do. They think you're a freak. They know you're lying. 

'I know.' 

Chloe suddenly releases her catapult, sending a grape flying into Rich's waiting mouth. He chews on it, nods, then opens his mouth again, waiting for Jake's turn. He pulls a chunk of pineapple back and sends it flying. It falls short by about two inches. 

"Yes! I win!" Chloe cheers while Brooke pats her on the back and gives a small clap. Rich gets back in his seat and mumbles something to Jake that's along the lines of 'Better luck next time'. 

"Knew it," I mumble as Michael comes back with two trays. 

"Why didn't I film that?" Jenna grumbles. Sometimes I'm surprised that she's not in the newspaper or yearbook club. She loves being up to date with everything and telling everyone (it may have to do with the fact that you have to be nice in school funded activities). 

I pick at my food before putting a piece in my mouth. I immediately regret it. I feel disgusting, like I'm betraying myself. I feel fat, like I'm gorging myself. I swear that I can feel everyone's scornful and judgemental eyes on my back. I begrudgingly swallow as the voice in my head rings out. 

You're fat and disgusting. You don't need to keep eating. You already have enough stored in that disgusting body of yours. 

'I know.'

Michael would ask me every know and then if I could still hear the Squip. If it was giving me trouble. I would always lie and say I was fine. Truth was, it was worse than it had ever been (and louder). Sure, it couldn't shock me anymore, but it made up for it by being ten times as hateful. But that was ok. It never said anything I didn't already know. 

And I deserved it. 

I put my fork back down and shove my tray away. I feel like I'm going to puke. Like I need to. This food shouldn't be in my body. I'm already gross enough. I glance up and see everybody looking at me with concerned faces. 

They think you're disgusting. 

'I know.' 

"You ok, man?" Jake asks. 

"I'm fine," I say, a bit too quickly. "Just a little nauseous. Guess the sickness is still wearing off." 

Everyone gives each other those looks again before going back to their meals. Michael's eyes linger a bit longer. He gives me a stare filled with a mix of concern, confusion, and sadness. Does he know that I'm lying? Is he going to tell everyone? What would they think? 

They'd think that you were a unloyal, distrustful, freak. 

'I know.'

Finally, he turns back to his tray. I sit there in an awkward silence, forcing myself to not slouch and keep my hands still. It hurts my spine. I read somewhere that having good posture is good for you (what a laugh), but my back wasn't used to it. When the Squip was more powerful, I'd wake up with a back so sore, it felt like I'd been exercising. 

After a while, the bell rings. Everyone in the cafeteria get up and head towards their next classes. My friends call out farewells as they split apart. Michael grabs my tray and dumps it out for me. 

You're such a hassle. Why do you even do anything? Why do you even exist? You should just leave. Get rid of yourself. 

'I kn...wait what?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m realizing my chapter descriptions can be interpreted as jokes/puns. Hmmm.


	4. Chapter Four: Healing is a Painful Process (Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy breaks down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW? I can’t remember. But I’m pretty sure. Same as last chapter.

Jeremy acted strange for the rest of the week. He didn't eat much of his lunch and he was constantly jumpy. Not that he wasn't normally jumpy (he'd never been one for keeping still), it was just...more so than usual. On Friday, Christine had ran into the lunch room, screaming about some new musical (or something, she was talking way too fast), and Jeremy almost touched the ceiling.

 

He ran off before I could offer him a ride, so I planned to head to his house after school. But my mom called me on the way over, telling me I had to watch my aunt's dog for a few hours. Then she just wouldn't let me leave the house (I would've snuck out, but she forced me to stay upstairs for a few hours while she worked on work). By the time she went to bed, I was so tired that I feared I'd crash on the way over, so I just went to bed.

Finally, Saturday morning rolled around and I hopped in my car before my mom and dad even woke up. When I got to the Heere household, I noticed that there were no cars in the driveway. I knew Jeremy would probably still be asleep, so I figured his dad was at work. I hope that he reminded Jeremy to eat before he left (he tends to forget when he's upset). 

I jumped up the front steps and opened the door with my spare key (no need to knock if there's no 'likely pantless man' on the prowl). I expected Jeremy to be up in his room, so I went into the kitchen to give him the all great wake up call of poptarts to the face. What I saw stopped me dead in my tracks. 

Jeremy stood, both hands on the counter, looking at a bowl of oatmeal like it was going to give him cancer. Even from here, I could tell he was shaking (and it wasn't cold in the house). He screwed his eyes shut and grumbled something I couldn't hear before grabbing a spoon and stabbing it into his breakfast. But he made no further actions towards consuming it after that. 

"Hey dude, you ok there?" I asked. He leapt about five feet in the air, spinning around to look at me. He looked out of breath (I mean, I know I look good, but not that good. And I don't think he'd just run a marathon) and I noticed how his clothes seemed to hang off of him a bit more than usual. His hair was still messy from sleep. Except, it didn't look like he had been sleeping. There were dark bags hanging under his eyes and they looked like they could droop shut at any minute, even in his frightened state. 

"How long have you been there?" He asked, voice shaky. 

"Just got here," I respond. "Wanted to check up on you. I would've come yesterday, but Ina had a lot of chores for me to do." 

"Why did you want to 'check up on me'?" He asked, voice in a slightly accusatory tone. 

"Might have something to do with that," I mumble before speaking up. "You've been fidgety all week. And you won't eat. I just wanted to make sure you weren't still sick, dude. Usually, if you were, you'd stay home. But you haven't been acting the same lately." 

He winces. Ok, not the right thing to say (and I'm also pretty sure he wasn't even sick).

"I'm fine," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to worry about me." 

"I'm your best friend, bro. It's sort of in my job description." 

"I said I'm fine!" He snaps. After he does so, his eyes widen and he quickly looks down. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. Didn't get much sleep last night." 

"Yeah, I kind of picked up on that," I say, tapping the spot under my eye. He lifts his fingers up and brushes them over the skin under his blue eye, almost like he can feel them (which maybe he can. I've never really tested this new theory). I sigh and walk up to him. He flinched as I patted the top of his head. 

"Why don't we go to your room and play some video games?" I ask. 

He nods and turns towards the stairs. I notice that his walk is almost deliberate, like he's making a conscious effort to walk a certain way. I turn towards the counter and notice the bowl of oatmeal has been left behind. 

"Hey," I call out. "You forgetting something?" 

Jeremy looks at the bowl on the counter, and his eyes flash with a strange look. Like he's disgusted, but not by the bowl (but at what I don't know). We stand in silence for a few seconds. I can practically see the gears turning in his head. 

"I'm not hungry," he finally says. 

"You sure?" I ask, not believing a word of it. He nods quickly. "Ok. Well then I'm going to take it and eat it in front of you while you regret all your life decisions." 

I reach back and grab the bowl as he mumbles something before turning and heading up the stairs. I follow him and we spend the next few hours playing the different games that Jeremy had in his collection. I tried to share the oatmeal with him every once in a while, but he kept refusing. Around two, Jeremy started to nod off. Like, a lot. His head kept falling down and he would suddenly lift it back up. After a while, he stopped lifting it up as quickly. I took his controller out of his hand and he didn't even notice. I could see him start to slide down, so I took the liberty of stretching him out so he wouldn't fall on his face. I was glad that he was catching up on sleep (and that it was the weekend, so he wouldn't have to do anything). 

That didn't last long. 

About thirty minutes later, he bolts up, his eyes mixed with fear and pain. When they land on me, his eyes softened. He lets out a relieved sigh and lays back out, rubbing the space in between his eyes like he had a headache. 

I pause my game and looked over at him, "You ok there, bud?" 

"Yeah," he mumbles "Sorry, just a weird dream." 

"Seemed more like a nightmare," I say. 

"No," he sighs, eyes opening and looking at me carefully. "I'm fine." 

"I can tell when you're lying, Jer." 

"I'm not lying," he gripes, sitting up straight. 

"You literally just jumped like you were....shocked," he flinches. "The only thing missing was a scream." 

"I swear I'm fine," he says, eyes narrowing. 

"You know you can always talk to me," I say. "You're my best friend. I want to help y..." 

"I don't need your help!" he screams. "I'm not a weakling! I can take care of myself!" 

I'm about to yell back at him, till I realize his breath has picked up and become uneven. I lean forward, asking if I can touch him. He gives a shaky nod and I wrap my arms around him. He lets out scratchy sobs and I rock him back and forth gently. I help him even out his breath, and after a while, the sobs are just light sniffles. 

I look over at the clock and realize how much time has passed. 

"Where's your dad?" I ask. 

"He's on a business trip," he mutters. "Left Monday morning." 

"While you were sick?" Jeremy gives a small nod, burying his head in my chest and not looking at me. 

"Jeremy," I start gently. "Were you actually sick?" 

He waits a minute before doing anything. For a second, I think he's going to try and avoid the question (or asleep. Panic attacks are tiring). But finally, he shakes his head slowly, not lifting up from his position. 

"What happened?" I ask. He doesn't move. "Jeremy, look at me." 

He slowly lifts his head and brings his eyes up to meet mine. They're filled with fear and pain. I realize he's terrified of what I will think. He thinks that I'm upset with him. 

"I'm not mad at you, Jer," I say. "Just worried." 

I expect him to flinch or start screaming again (apparently, being worried for him does not sit well). But instead, he just gives a small, shaky nod. I sigh and he looks up at me. I give him a small smile, which he tries to return (though it doesn't really work out that well). 

"What happened?" 

"I just...did a lot of thinking," he says. 

"That's never healthy," I try joking. Jeremy gives a small chuckle. 

"Don't I know it?" 

"Was it because of what happened with Oliver?" I ask. I remember how much bullies would get to him when we were younger, when it first started. And after being popular for a few weeks, I feel like that sense of invincibility would've gone to his head before he could stop it. I know the power did. 

"Not...really?" He says, though it sounds more like a question. "I mean, sure it scared me, butt I got over it pretty quickly. Just...some other stuff came up." 

"Was it," I hesitate, knowing this is a delicate topic. "Was it the Squip?" 

My heart drops when he gives a small nod. 

"What was it saying?" 

"Everything," he nearly shouts, suddenly standing up and beginning to pace. "It told me how I was pain. How I was so annoying and a burden to everyone. H-how I was just a w-wimp that couldn't do anything r-right. H-how Dad can't...can't stand m-me and M-Mom didn't lo-love me. How...how I s-s-should just l-leave, ge-ge-g-get r-rid o-of m-m-myself...." 

"Woah woah woah, Jeremy," I exclaim, leaping up as the sobs start raking his body again and his breath picks up. I grab his shoulders, stopping his pacing (which has now basically turned into stomping) - and forcing him to look at me. "You know none of that is true, right?" 

He looks away. 

"Jer...," I let myself fall short, heart breaking. 

"It's kind of hard to not belief it when it's repeated in your head over and over again," he says bitterly. I pull him closer and wrap him in my arms, letting him sob into my shoulder once again. But this time, they're silent. 

"Do you have any Red?" I ask. 

"I ran out," he says. 

"Lucky for you," I pull back and smirk. "I always have some on hand." 

I walk over to my bag and take out the discontinued bottle. He looks at it for a second, before dashing forward to grab it, practically ripping the cap off before proceeding to chug half the bottle. Once he was done, he let out a relieved sigh. I offered him a smile, which he returned. 

"How you feeling?" I asked. 

"Empty," he smiled. "Which is good. I haven't felt that in a while." 

"Well then, I guess I should...," I get cut off as my phone begins to ring. It seems like my mom wants me to come home (I swear, it's like she only needs me when I have something else going on). I answer and my mom yells at me in Tagalog for a bit. I let her get it out of her system (apparently, leaving a note doesn't cover it if you're gonna be out all day) before asking her what she wanted. 

After I hang up, I look back to Jeremy, "Sorry, Ina needs home. I'd ignore her if I wasn't afraid she'd rip my head off with her vicious 'Mom Talons'." 

"It's fine," he says. "I should probably be by myself anyways." 

"Jerem..."

"I can't combat this effectively if I can't face it on my own even a little bit. If you already helped so much. I'll be fine." 

I give him a lingering gaze, before nodding. We say our goodbyes and I leave him to his thoughts. Whether or not that was a good idea, I still have yet to know. 

\-----~:~-----

Did you see how fast he left you? He clearly hates you. You should just end it now.

"Stop it."


	5. Chapter Five: Battles with Words and Forks (Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Jeremy get into an argument over salad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Eating disorder type stuff.

My mom kept me home the next day, so I wasn't able to see Jeremy until Monday. When he saw me, he smiled brightly, and I felt the darkness pulling in the pits of my stomach give way to some warmth. It seemed like things were finally going to get better.

The day progressed normally. I saw Jeremy in second period and he was waiting for me in the hall for lunch like always. We headed towards the lunch room, where Jeremy greeted everyone with a warm smile. Christine started rambling about a musical (something about the founding fathers), Jenna barely glanced up from her phone, Brooke kept her eyes on Chloe who had started the 'Great Catapult Wars: Part Two' with Jake and Rich. Once I was sure that Jeremy was comfortable (definitely not a stalker), I got up to get out lunches.

When I returned, he smiled at me and I felt like I might explode (Michael.exe has stopped working). He and Christine had found a way to tear Jenna and Brooke away from their 'significant other' to include them in the conversation. I took my normal seat next to Jeremy and kept watch over him out of the corner of my eye while I watched Choe prove her superiority over the world of plastic artillery. 

He took a bite out of the school's mystery meat, and suddenly, all the goodness and light from earlier today seemed to drain out of him. And I wasn't the only one who noticed it. Christine stopped talking to Jenna, which made Brooke look over, which drew the attention of those at the end of the table. 

"You ok there Jer?" Christine asked, cautious and gentle. 

"Oh," Jeremy looked up, snapping out of his daze. "Oh, yeah I'm fine. Just wasn't paying attention. I actually started going vegetarian a bit earlier this month." 

Vegetarian my left eye. 

"How do people even live like that?" Chloe asked, apparently believing him (or choosing to lighten the mood). "If I didn't have burgers, I think I would die." 

"Burgers?" Rich asked. 

"What?" 

"You eat burgers?" 

"Yes, doesn't everyone?" Chloe asked, clearly annoyed. 

"Oh," Rich smirked. "I thought you just ate caviar." 

"Excuse me?" 

Rich dramatically flopped across the table and placed his hand atop his forehead, "The life of the wealthy is so difficult. Why, we hardly have time for our afternoon tea." 

"Why don't you shut your mouth?" Chloe snarls, turning her fork around like a spear while Brooke quietly laughs behind her hair. 

"Oh no. The fair madame threatens me. Protect me kind sir," he taunted, throwing himself across Jake. "For I fear for my safety." 

Chloe lunged across the table and attempted to jab Rich with her fork. He responded by screeching and throwing Jake in front of him like a human shield. Jake attempted to keep the peace while Christine and Brooke broke out into laughter. Jenna took out her phone and began to film. 

I looked over to see Jeremy's reaction, but he wasn't there. I looked up at Christine and she followed my gaze, shrugging when she saw my questioning look. I got up and left the lunchroom in search of my tall and pasty friend (I was going to either consol him or punch him in the face). But apparently, I didn't have to go very far. 

Jeremy stood just outside the lunch room. He wasn't moving and his eyes were a bit glazed over. I glanced over his shoulder and saw what he was (or had been looking at). An old sign up sheet for the play that for some reason hadn't been taken down yet. 

Crap. 

"Hey," I called out. He jumped the same way he had when I'd showed up at his house and considered me carefully. Then he smirked. 

"Sounds like I'm missing something interesting," he said, motioning towards the door. "What's happening? Some sort of food fight?"

"If so, then you can bet they're using your tray as ammunition. You barely ate any of it." 

"I wasn't really that hungry," Jeremy shrugs. 

"Oh, just like how you're now a vegetarian?" I don't try to keep the snarl off my face. He flinches and looks away. 

"What's wrong Jer?" I ask, attempting to be calming. I need to approach this delicately. But I also need answers. 

"What's wrong with me not wanting to eat meat anymore?" he asks bitterly, giving me an incredulous look. 

"Because it's complete horse crap!" I'm vaguely aware of the bell ringing, but right now, we hold each other's complete attention. 

"Not really," he defends. "Eating meat is a way of showing that you support the death of animals." 

I laugh dryly, "This coming from the guy who can't go a week without craving a cheeseburger. Or the guy who once ate all my chicken because I 'took to long in the bathroom'. You have a high metabolism that is not suitable for you only eating vegetables, Jeremy." 

I can feel the eyes of our friends and other students on my back and I see Jeremy constantly glance over my shoulder. I don't have much longer before he tries to book it. 

"I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions," he snarls. 

"But they're not always the safest. Or the smartest." And I know that he can tell exactly what I'm referring too.

"Why do you care?" he growls. 

"Because you're my best friend!" I shout. "And if something happens to you I won't be able to handle it!" 

"Nothing is going to happen to me!" Jeremy cries. "I'm getting better, remember! Now leave me alone!" 

He turns around and runs down the hall. I move to follow him, but Jake grabs my arm, "Give him a minute to cool down." 

I'm about to protest when a teacher shows up. He yells at the crowd that has grown and we all split up to head to class. Christine hands me my bag and Brooke says she'll give Jeremy his in their next class. I look down the hall, but I can't see him anymore. I sigh, before turning to follow the hoard of teens, all while wondering what I can do to make my best friend love himself the way we all do. The way I do. 

\-----~:~-----

Good going loser. You made your best friend hate you. Are you proud of yourself, you stupid freak? You should just go ahead and quit while you're ahead. 

'....Stop it."

**Author's Note:**

> On Wattpad under the same name.


End file.
